


mounting pleasures

by shadhahvar



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Centaurs, Facials, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 11:00:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17806757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadhahvar/pseuds/shadhahvar
Summary: Centaur AU. Following the year's clan gathering competition for the archers, Phichit heads off toward the river for a nighttime swim, only to find fellow competitor, Christophe, already in the water. What happens next might surprise you! (Unless you read the tags.)





	mounting pleasures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pandamilo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandamilo/gifts).



> Happy Valentines, Pandamilo!

Phichit staggered away from the strings of bright lantern lights and the circle of stalls selling food and offering games of chance, tugging at his sash. The pleasant heat of the evening air on his exposed skin was almost too warm. Between the restless energy coursing through him after the day’s competition and the brilliant buzz of alcohol in his veins, he couldn’t keep still. 

His hooves beat out a staccato rhythm as he meandered down the narrow pathways leading away from the encampment. A shadow-strewn forest backed up to the low rolling hills at the base of the nearby mountains; to his left, the open expanse of the grasslands stretched into the distance. With the great river that ran through the area, it was a perfect meeting ground, host to countless gatherings of the clans in the past. He mimed lifting a cup in honour of a history he saw parading across the moonlight landscape. The ghosts of ancestors living and dying by their own merits, free and proud.

Oh, to be a centaur in this day and age. No longer hunted as beasts by the prideful, conceited half-men of the warring countries. No longer caught up in their own vicious cycles of attack and retreat. The scholars called their current era a Golden Age, but as he held up his hands to cup the low hanging moon between them, silver seemed to better suit. His hands fell away from their fanciful games, and he looked away from the heavy crescent rising over the mountains in the distance. Stars scattered across the heavens, more noticeable now in the surrounding darkness than near the fire’s light.

He kicked up his heels, breaking into a lazy trot, idle thoughts twisting through his head. The garland of flowers still hung around his neck gave off a subtle fragrance, petals crushed as a matter of course from his celebrations over the afternoon and evening. Evidence of his capabilities as an archer, he smiled as his fingers gently stroked the flower hanging over his chest. Sixth out of the two hundred registered competitors.

Flicking his tail, he grinned and threw his head back, laughing.

Sixth!

His mirth was short lived, the echo of his warmth laughter swallowed between the trees. His smile remained, bright in the dark, as did the lightness in his chest.

Sixth, in his first all clan competition!

He kept up his trot as he followed one thin trail after another, tail swishing side to side in its slowly devolving braid. Water burbled and bellowed in the distance, building to the soft roar of a small waterfall and the rumbling of similarly small rapids. Without thinking hard on it, he angled toward the sound of water, slowing down to better pick his way forward as even his night-wise eyes failed in discerning the placement of roots along the path. Two stumbles and a flailing moment where he caught himself against the rough bark of a tree was enough caution to calm his spirits, if not his heart.

Glimpses of silver-black water through the trees carried with them the scent and weight of the river’s water; like a lifeblood to all their people’s, this wild and beautiful vein pouring down from the mountains. The lure of its sweet, chill embrace pulled him forward, and with each step, the heat under his hide, under his skin, grew.

Swimming was a wonderful idea. Stripping down out of his layers and throwing himself into the waters, cooling down just to feel revitalised. The kind of antics he’d enjoyed a handful of years before, but didn’t count himself as too old to experience again.

He smiled, picking up speed as he broke through the last of the trees and foliage to step out onto the sandy embankment stretching out to a broad curve of the river, then stopped. Sand and small stones kicked forward as his hooves locked in place, Phichit’s arms tossed out to the side, catching his balance.

He wasn’t alone. Under the moon’s soft light, another moved through the waters, not quite swimming. The curve of their rump could be seen just barely above the surface, their hands trailing over the water as if caressing a lover. Water droplets glinted off the pale skin of their back, and as they turned toward Phichit, responding to his disruption, his eyes traveled up from the man’s naked torso to his face.

They locked eyes, even though it should have been difficult to tell in the soft, wanting moonlight. The river swallowed the silence that fell between them, and Phichit smiled, curiosity and pleasure a heady mix in his stomach. 

“Christophe?”

The centaur in the water turned, canting his head to the side, observing Phichit with an expression hidden in shadow. He surged forward with a dancer’s grace and a warrior’s economy of movement, rising from the silver-black waters. The shift of his head illuminated the answering smile on his lips.

“Phichit, I didn’t expect to run into you out here.” 

Phichit swallowed, smile still lingering as he walked toward Christophe. “I thought about swimming.” He laughed, shaking his head and gesturing toward Christophe. “Now I’m thinking twice. Aren’t you cold?”

Christophe paused at the top of the embankment, idly rubbing his upper arms. Water dripped from his chest, belly, and flanks, practical streaming off his tail. “Offering to warm me up?” he said, still half smiling, lifting a foreleg and shaking it off, sending water droplets flying around. Some caught the moonlight, flashing silver as they fell.

Silence fell between them, at first gentle, then taunt with unspoken possibilities. Phichit stood as if rooted to the ground through each hoof, watching Christophe. As the silence stretched on, Christophe arched an eyebrow, opening his mouth to speak. 

Phichit spoke first.

“Maybe,” he said, eyes half closed, a fizzle of excitement coursing down his spine. “If you want.” Those were bolder words than he’d planned on using, but not ones he regretted, even when Christophe met his gaze with an unreadable one of his own.

Christophe flicked his tail, flinging water droplets in an arc away from where he stood. He chuckled, running his fingers through his damp mass of curls. “Planning on building me a fire?” he said instead, walking toward Phichit, body language curious and watchful.

“I could,” Phichit said, taking a step forward, but at an angle, exposing some of his side and flank. 

“Hmm. With wood, or with something else?”

They were in touching distance now, Christophe angling his side and flank toward Phichit in turn. They were halfway to circling around each other, but Phichit held his ground as Christophe came closer, choosing not to circle around or away.

He grinned instead, a flash of warmth in his eyes caught between the desire winding through him and his own innate good cheer.

“How about a hug?” He threw open his arms in invitation, his tone cheeky, hooves lifting as he all but pranced forward.

Christophe laughed, shaking his head. “Is that all?”

“No, but it’s a start—” Phichit said, cutting off as Christophe pivoted and leaned his wet side against Phichit’s clothed form, wrapping one arm around his upper waist and hauling him into a wet, chilled embrace. “Cold!” Phichit cried out, laughingly pushing against Christophe’s upper torso, leaning away. “Way too cold!”

“Weren’t you just offering to warm me up?” Christophe nuzzled his cold face against Phichit’s neck, damp hair tickling and chilling Phichit in turns. The sensation was distracting enough even without Christophe’s low, melodic voice speaking right by his ear, breathing out in a warm puff of air that left Phichit’s skin pebbling in response. 

“How was I supposed to know you’d try turning me into a living towel?” His lips quirked up, and when Chistophe lifted his head to shoot him an amused look, Phichit took advantage of the moment to lean in and press their lips together.

It was a brief kiss, brief enough that only Phichit closed his eyes, a fact learned when they opened again to find Christophe with his eyes open, giving him a fond look of surprise. His arm around Phichit’s upper waist tightened, tugging Phichit toward him, his other hand raised and tracing Phichit’s jawline.

“Can’t help it,” Christophe said, eyes half closed as he regarded Phichit. “You’re too tempting to stay away from.”

“Oh, good,” he said, a slow grin lifting his lips at the corners, “I was hoping for something like that.”

Then he pushed away, flashing that same grin at Christophe as he kicked up his heels and ran down the length of the sandy embankment, inviting Christophe to chase after him. They wheeled and reared in tight circles, showing off with no sense of shame or desire for apologies. Christophe in his nudity all the more compelling and impossible for Phichit to look away from. The soft fade of his torso into the dark, rich roan of his hide invited Phichit to reach out and touch, and he did, lagging a step behind as they raced along the bank. Warm skin melded into warm, damp fur, Christophe twitching under his touch. 

“You’re still wearing far too much,” he said, and it was a matter of coming together and lavishing breathless kiss after kiss on each other’s lips while Christophe’s clever fingers worked his sash free, slipping his short robe off his shoulders and tossing it carelessly to the side. 

The alcohol had burned off by then, the only intoxication the scent of Christophe’s skin, the feel of his hands against Phichit, the taste of his lips and tongue against Phichit’s mouth. Arousal thrummed through him with every caress, leaving him holding his breath and biting down on his lip in anticipation as Christophe coaxed him into lifting one foreleg at a time, freeing him from the constraints of his tied-on trousers little by little. 

He stood half naked, shivering from want more than cold, Christophe pressing a kiss to his shoulder and running his hands down Phichit’s bare back, down over the curve of his lower shoulders, fingers raking into the fur at his long back.

“You really want this?” Christophe asked, and Phichit nodded his head, wrapping his arms around Christophe’s neck.

“Yes,” he said, pulling Christophe into another open mouthed kiss, licking into his mouth, sucking on his tongue, biting down gently. He wanted, and why not admit it? This was his life, his time, and his chance to paint the canvas before him as he willed. “And you?”

Christophe chuckled, pulling away only to step forward and brush his lower shoulder against Phichit’s. “Very much so,” he said, bending to press a kiss to Phichit’s upper back, then trail his kisses lower, caressing with his hands as he nipped and licked and kissed a path down Phichit’s spine.

He shivered and shuddered under Christophe’s touch, swallowing a moan as Christophe pushed his trousers down over the curve of his rump, reaching below his belly to free his erection from the fabric that held it close to his stomach. He gasped when Christophe curled his hand around the head of his dick, giving a firm squeeze before pushing down along the length to bump against his sheath. Phichit’s hips rolled forward, bucking into Christophe’s hand, and he moaned around one word, a simple, “ _Please._ ”

He didn’t care about his trousers once they fell past his hocks, shuddering as Christophe leaned down to press a kiss anove his tail, hand ghosting over his sheath before breaking away, caressing his inner thigh. “Aren’t you eager,” he said, smiling and pleased, his amusement heavy and warm enough for Phichit to sink into, if only he wanted.

Yet it was Christophe who broke away, pivoting and walking in front of Phichit, brushing against his side but not reaching out for him again. He looked over his shoulder, leaning back to rest his hand on his flank, lifting his tail and bringing to clearly to once side. 

Phichit stared, swallowing at the sight before him, comprehension dragging behind.

“Well, aren’t you coming?” Christophe said, trying not to smile, trying to look seductive in ways he didn’t need to, not with Phichit as worked up as he was. Even so, it was enough to pull Phichit out of his frozen moment, and he smiled, eyes bright, prancing as he came forward.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, hands caressing the curves of Christophe’s ass, appreciating the strength of the muscle under that warm, damp skin. With his arousal heavy and wanting, Phichit leaned forward to press a kiss anove Christophe’s tail before rearing up, using both hands and forelegs to guide him on top of and to cleave to Christophe. He walked forward with his hindlegs, his erection brushing against Christophe’s inner thighs first, enough so that he contorted himself to reach back and take hold of his head to line it up with Christophe’s hole.

“Slowly,” Christophe encouraged, watching Phichit over his shoulder, his skin flushed, his breathing heavy. Christophe shuddered as Phichit nodded and rocked his hips forward, pressing against his entrance, sinking into his heat centimeter by glorious centimeter. 

Phichit moaned, forcing himself into stillness as the urge to step forward and slam his hips home, forelegs pressed tight against Chistophe’s sides. Panting, Phichit pressed in further, feeling the contractions of muscle at Christophe’s entrance even more keenly.

His heat was as intoxicating now as it had been before. It was the thought lingering in his mind when he found Christophe’s hand clutching at the back of his head, pulling him forward into a rough kiss. 

Their eyes met, both unblinking, Phichit forcing himself still, worried it was too much, too fast.

Christophe ended their kiss, licking his lips without looking away. “Fuck me,” he said, nails digging into Phichit’s scalp, and he could do nothing except slam his hips forward and comply.

They fucked under the moonlight with the stars as their witness, uncaring for the sounds they made, crying out in pleasure as passion overflowed between them. Phichit was sloppier than he hoped to be, falling into a haphazard rhythm encouraged by Christophe’s hitched breaths and moans before he steadied out, chasing his own pleasure and remembering in the process to push Christophe toward his own. He rained kisses over Christophe’s face, then his shoulders and back, biting down hard at the nape of his neck when Christophe asked for _more, harder, faster, now_. All short words and nonsense statements that stoked his fires, finally finding a rhythm and angle that left Christophe shuddering with each thrust, legs locked to keep from falling.

Phichit grinned, nuzzling the back of Christophe’s neck, and locked his arms around his upper waist, using arms and forelegs to keep himself in place as his thrusting grew more frenzied. His arousal peaked and crashed through him, hips stuttering as he jerked forward and came in pulsing, shattering waves, coming for ages, each slight shift of Christophe beneath him making him gasp for breath. When he finally was done, he collapsed more heavily against Christophe, head buried against his shoulder, mumbling sweet words and pressing soft kisses to whatever skin he could reach.

It wasn’t enough, really. With a final placating kiss, Phichit pushed himself back, sliding out of Christophe, fluids making wet sounds as he withdrew. When his forelegs slid down over Christophe’s flanks, Phichit came to a stop, leaning his torso forward, caressing Christophe’s thighs with his hands. It was a matter of ease to press kisses to his mussed fur, breathing in his scent and leaning to the side enough to slip one arm underneath him, Phichit’s hand rubbing against Christophe’s sheath. 

“Let me take care of you,” he said, lifting his head to meet Christophe’s glazed look.

“Please, do,” Christophe said, voice deep with arousal, his pupils visibly blown even in this low light.

It was enough to make Phichit grin, stepping away to kneel down on the cool sand, then roll over, forelegs tucked against his barrel. He peered up at Christophe and smiled, patting his barrel with a hand. “Sit,” he said, enjoying the startled look on Christophe’s face before his smile was returned with a soft, throaty chuckle.

“You’re something else, aren’t you?” Christophe said as he complied, walking over and straddling Phichit’s form before sitting with exaggerated care. Between his hindlegs and the way Phichit moved his forelegs to help support Christophe, he sat steady on top of him, leaving Phichit with free and ready access to his present goal: Christophe’s sheath and dick.

Precome dripped off Christophe’s thick head, having left a streak in the fur of his stomach. Phichit licked his lips, using one hand to guide Christophe’s dick to his mouth, laving his tongue over the warm, soft skin. Christophe tasted almost salty, but mostly strange in a way Phichit found he didn’t mind. Opening his mouth wide, he took all of Christophe’s head in, licking and suckling while one hand stroked up and down, not forgetting to caress even his sheath with his palm.

Christophe suddered and moaned above him, forelegs locked in place to keep him steady and supported while Phichit drove him made from beneath. He managed to keep himself from rocking his hips forward, chasing after the warmth of Phichit’s mouth, but part of it was how Phichit’s forelegs kept his hips in place. 

Phichit wasn’t experienced in these intimacies, but he was inventive, and he had his own fantasies he didn’t fail to act on now. He coaxed and teased and swallowed as much of Christophe as he could, vowing to himself he’d manage more next time, when he heard Christophe cry out, “Phichit, I’m about to come,” and ignored it, stroking faster, suckling while pressing his tongue up against the sensitive underside of Christophe’s dick’s head.

He heard Christophe’s choked off cry even as he felt him go tense, hooves digging into the sand in the moment before he jerked forward, coming all at once. There was so much, Phichit had to pull his head away with an obscene pop, come flowing out of his mouth and still shooting in thick spurts from Christophe’s dick. He swallowed, then spit, overwhelmed, hands holding onto the dick responsible as Christophe kept coming. He had come all over his face, in his hair, next to him on the sand, and surprisingly, he didn’t hate any of it. 

“Phichit, I’m sorry, I tried warning you.” Christophe panted, looking down at him and reaching to brush Phichit’s bangs out of his face. Sticky from sweat and come, it wasn’t a smooth process, but Phichit grinned up at him anyway. It was comforting, that kind of gentle touch and regard following all of their activities. 

“Don’t apologise,” he said, grinning harder. “I heard you. I just didn’t care.”

Christophe raised an eyebrow, gently flicking Phichit’s ear. “Greedy,” he said, chuckling, and carefully stood up, stepping to the side to clear room for Phichit to move. “You’re going to need a bath after all that.”

“You aren’t?”

Christophe clucked his tongue as Phichit rolled himself over to his knees before standing.

“I see a perfectly good pool of water right here,” Christophe said instead of arguing, approaching Phichit to run a hand over his side, skin against skin. 

“I’ll wash your back if you’ll wash mine.” Phichit offered, still grinning.

“Oh,” Christophe said, coming chest to chest with him, “That’s the very least of what I’m planning to do.”

In the silver-black waters of the river that brought life to the land they lived in, Christophe demonstrated exactly what he meant, several times over.

It was, all things told, a very, _very_ good night, and the beginning of a relationship neither one would choose to ignore.


End file.
